Gloria had backed away from him and was inching towards the door. He was mad, she thought, stark raving mad. ‘Who yer talkin’ about?’ she asked as calmly as she could, hoping she would reach the door before he got to her.
‘Why, that woman who was looking after Mary O’Reilly, that’s who,’ he snarled at her.
Gloria felt her heart miss a beat and suddenly she was terrified of what he was going to tell her. ‘That was my friend Lola,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘You didn’t ’arm ’er. She died in the air raid. Lola was burnt ter death.’
Frank laughed aloud, a wild, frightening laugh, like a prowling animal crying out as it cornered its prey. ‘She saw me, so she had to die,’ he growled.
‘Saw yer?’ Gloria said, hardly recognising her own voice.
‘Yes, she saw me. I was getting ready to burn the house down but she had to interfere. I told her I was seeking justice, and she laughed at me. She stood back and laughed at me so I hit her. I stopped her laughing,’ Frank cried, his voice rising to a crescendo. ‘She’ll never laugh at me again, do you hear?’
Gloria was sick with anger and fear. She had been shocked to learn of Lola’s death after the last bad air raid more than three years ago, but she had not thought for a moment that it was a cold, brutal murder. The memory of her beating at the hands of Frank Galloway flashed into Gloria’s mind, and she realised with horror that her fears then had been justified. Frank Galloway was capable of murder – he had just admitted it. He was mad, raving mad, and her life was in mortal danger.
‘Come away from that door, Gloria,’ Frank said with spite in his voice. ‘Come away or I’ll have to kill you too.’
Gloria made a sudden dart for the door handle but he was too quick for her. He grabbed her round the waist and quickly clamped his hand over her mouth. ‘If you try to scream I’ll strangle you, do you hear?’ he snarled.
Gloria was paralysed with fear and he could see by her eyes that she understood. He slowly released the pressure on her mouth. ‘Right then, we’ll sit you down,’ he said, his voice becoming calm again as he forced her down into an upright chair. ‘Just remember. One sound and I’ll throttle you.’
Gloria’s mouth and throat were dry and she sat rigid as he pulled her arms tightly behind the chair, holding them together with one hand as he leaned sideways and reached for the curtain cord. She was soon trussed up tightly, and Frank then went into her bedroom and came out with a couple of her silk slips.
‘Why are yer tyin’ me up?’ she asked fearfully.
‘Because I’ve got to go out,’ he replied. ‘There’s a little matter I’ve got to take care of. They won’t laugh at me any more after this night, you can be sure of that.’
Gloria saw the mad look in his eyes and she flinched as he came towards her. He bent down and used the slips to bind her feet to the legs of the chair, and when he was finished he studied his handiwork. ‘Now for the gag,’ he said aloud.
Sammy McCarthy was putting the finishing touches to the windowframe when Frank came down the steps. ‘Was Gloria pleased ter see yer?’ he called out.
Frank drew a deep breath and ambled up to him. ‘She wants me to stay a few days but there’s a problem,’ he said casually.
‘Oh, an’ what’s that then?’ Sammy asked.
‘Well, Gloria was expecting another client,’ Frank replied smiling. ‘I wonder if you’d be so kind as to tell him when he turns up that Gloria’s indisposed for the time being?’
‘I can’t be lookin’ out fer Gloria all the time,’ Sammy said, gazing down at his paint-smeared palm.
Frank took out a one-pound note from his wallet and held it out. ‘We’d like a bit of privacy, if you know what I mean,’ he said, smiling slyly. ‘I’m just away to make a phone call, then I’ll be back.’
Sammy nodded and watched his benefactor walk quickly along the turning, then he pocketed the pound note and picked up his paintbrush once more.
Carrie was listening to the early news broadcast when Nellie called out. She hurried to her mother’s room and found her trying to get out of bed. ‘Now yer must stay there, Mum,’ she said firmly.
Nellie winced as her daughter helped her back beneath the bedclothes. ‘I don’t want ter be a burden,’ she groaned. ‘I only wanted ter come downstairs fer a while. Besides, I don’t want yer fetchin’ an’ carryin’ all the time.’
‘Look, I’ve got Joe to ’elp, an’ there’s Rachel. I’m not doin’ it all,’ Carrie said quietly but firmly.
Nellie sighed as she leaned back on the pillow. ‘I feel so weak,’ she said.
‘Mum, it’s pleurisy, an’ yer know what the doctor said. Yer gotta stay in bed an’ rest,’ Carrie reminded her. ‘Give it a few days an’ you’ll be as right as rain, but if yer start gettin’ up an’ sittin’ in the draught, yer could get pneumonia easy as anyfing.’
‘’Ark at little Nurse Nightingale,’ Nellie chuckled.
‘Well, do as yer told then,’ Carrie said smiling, patting her hand fondly.
The phone rang and Joe picked it up. As Carrie came down the stairs, he slipped his hand over the mouthpiece. ‘It’s the South London Press,’ he whispered. ‘They wanna to do a piece on our Rachel an’ Tony.’
‘She’s slipped round ter one of ’er friends,’ Carrie told him. ‘She’ll be back soon ’cos Tony’s callin’ for ’er.’
A few minutes later Rachel walked in and flopped down in the chair. ‘I’ve picked up all the gossip,’ she laughed. ‘Mary Wilshaw’s got ’erself a new young man an’ Josie Phillips is pregnant again.’
‘Well, I’ve got a bit o’ news fer you,’ Carried said. ‘The South London Press wanna do a follow-up story about you an’ Tony. They’re gonna ring back shortly.’
Rachel’s eyes opened wide. ‘Well, well,’ she replied, grinning. ‘We’re gonna be famous.’
Carrie stood over her, arms akimbo. ‘Just remember ter tell’em yer’re a backstreet child, an’ proud of it,’ she said with feigned seriousness.
Rachel laughed aloud and stood up stretching. ‘Oh well, I’d better get me ’air washed,’ she said. ‘We’re goin’ ter the flicks ternight.’
Ten minutes later the phone rang again and when Carrie answered it, she passed it over to Rachel. ‘It’s them again,’ she whispered.
Nellie called out just then and Carrie hurried up the stairs once more. When she came back down into the parlour, Rachel was putting on her coat.
‘They wanna see me right away,’ she said excitedly.
‘Just you?’ Carrie asked, looking quickly at Joe as he walked into the room.
‘Yeah. They wanna see me about arrangin’ a proper meetin’ wiv the two of us termorrer. They’re sendin’ a taxi right away,’ Rachel told her. ‘’E said it won’t take long an’ ’e’ll drop me back ’ere afterwards.’
‘It seems a funny way ter do business. Couldn’t they wait until termorrer?’ Carrie said, pulling a face.
‘’E said ’e was sorry about the rush but they want ter get it in this Friday’s edition,’ Rachel explained, adjusting the collar of her coat.
‘Well, don’t be too long,’ Carrie replied. ‘Remember Tony’ll be ’ere early.’
Frank Galloway had been cursing his luck after the first phone call, but ten minutes later he was smiling as he climbed back up to the top-floor flat in Rotherhithe. Gloria was sitting with her head bowed as he let himself in, and she looked up and stared balefully at him. Frank checked the gag round her mouth and then took a piece of clothesline that was hanging over the gas stove. He proceeded to tie one end round Gloria’s neck and then pulled it rigid, fastening the other end to the cross-rail under the chair.
‘Now listen to me,’ he said, waving his finger at the trussed woman. ‘That’s a lorry knot I’ve just tied round your neck, which means that if you struggle, the rope will get tighter. Try to get free and you’ll slowly choke, so for your sake you’d better sit very still until I get back. If all goes well, I won’t be long. Then we’ll get a little more
civilised.’
With a last quick glance at his prisoner, Frank let himself out of the flat and hurried down the stairs.
It was only a short walk to Rotherhithe Tunnel, where he hailed a passing taxi. Two minutes later the cab turned into Salmon Lane and Frank sighed with relief as he saw that Rachel was waiting by the yard gate and she was alone. As the taxi drew up, he opened the door and she stepped in smiling. He pulled her down quickly into the seat and her face blanched as she saw the large carving knife in his hand. ‘Don’t scream or try to attract the driver’s attention, or I’ll put this in you,’ he whispered.
Rachel looked into his face and saw the terrible wild look in his eyes. ‘It was you on the phone,’ she said. ‘You tricked me.’
He nodded. ‘We’re taking a little trip and I want you to do exactly as you’re told. I’m desperate and I won’t hesitate to run this knife right into you if I have to.’
Rachel fought to stay calm as she felt the pressure of the knife in her side. There was nothing she could do to attract attention without getting hurt, and Frank Galloway looked capable of anything. She knew both father and son by sight, had heard her mother talk endlessly about the Galloway family and about Frank Galloway’s misdeeds, but she had never considered for a minute that the man would be so stupid as to threaten her, or do her any harm. What was he trying to achieve?
The taxi driver had already been told where to go and he turned into Jamaica Road and then left into Rotherhithe Tunnel. Necessity and sheer desperation had set Frank to thinking hard and he had laid his plans well. Their destination was a derelict riverside warehouse in Wapping. It had once stored dried fruit and canned goods from the Orient, but now the bomb-blasted building was abandoned to the rats that searched the deserted floors for rotting titbits.
Frank had been shown over the building some time ago by a businessman he had befriended at a masonic dinner. They had discussed buying the derelict property and renovating it for furniture-making after the war was over, and for a time Frank had been excited about the project. He had planned on investing as a partner, once he gained his inheritance, but his dreams had been shattered.
The taxi reached the end of the tunnel and turned sharply left into a narrow lane. On each side, high gloomy warehouses shut out the light and the taxi rattled over the rough cobbles.
‘This will do, driver,’ Frank ordered, and then he turned to Rachel with a stern look on his flushed face. ‘Now don’t try anything as we get out. Just keep close to me,’ he warned her.
Rachel felt his grip on her arm tighten as he paid the driver, and then he pulled her roughly towards the debris-strewn warehouse yard. They entered the derelict building through an opening in the brickwork at the end of the yard. The air inside was foul-smelling. Rachel felt her blood run cold as she heard a scurry. The place is rat-infested, she thought with horror.
‘Why are yer bringin’ me ’ere?’ she said suddenly.
‘Just keep quiet,’ Frank hissed. ‘I warned you once. Don’t talk.’
She was hustled along inside the filthy warehouse, then pulled roughly towards an iron door. Frank held her tightly with one hand and reached for the door handle with the other. The next instant Rachel was violently shoved into the dark interior and before she had time to think the door was slammed shut.
Chapter Forty-One
Tony O’Reilly had had a busy day. In the morning he had been to see an army friend who was recovering from his wounds at the Woolwich Military Hospital, and then afterwards he had gone to the Bermondsey baths, where he soaked luxuriously for almost an hour before going to get his hair trimmed. His next visit was to a jewellery shop in Whitechapel, where he bought a gold ring which had five tiny diamonds set in a raised shoulder. He had it in the inside pocket of his coat and he occasionally reassured himself that it was still there as he strolled along Jamaica Road in the warm evening air.
He was feeling happy. He had read the early edition of the evening paper on his way back from Whitechapel and it appeared that the invasion was going well. Tonight he would give Rachel the ring he had bought and hold her close in the darkness of the cinema. Life felt good for him as he turned into Salmon Lane, blissfully unaware that his happiness was about to be shattered.
Joe met him at the gate, his face dark. ‘We’ve ’ad a phone call, Tony,’ he said urgently. ‘Somebody’s ’oldin’ Rachel.’
‘What?’ Tony exclaimed. ‘ ’Oldin’ ’er? What d’yer mean,’oldin’ ’er?’
Joe led the anxious young man into the house and he was immediately confronted by Carrie in tears.
‘Rachel went out before five this evenin’,’ she said, fighting to compose herself. ‘Somebody phoned ter say they wanted ter meet ’er. They said they were from the South London Press an’ they wanted to arrange a meetin’ ter fix up an interview wiv the two o’ yer. Whoever it was said they’d send ’er back by taxi an’ it wouldn’t take long. Then not long after, we got anuvver call. They said if we wanted ter see Rachel again we’d ’ave ter pay a ransom. Oh God, why didn’t I stop ’er goin’?’ Carrie sobbed.
Joe went to her and put his arms round her. ‘Yer mustn’t blame yerself,’ he said, patting her back gently. ‘We wasn’t ter know it was a set-up. ’Ow could we know?’
Tony’s face was ashen as he looked from one to the other. ‘’Ave yer any idea who it could be?’ he asked.
Joe and Carrie both shook their heads and Tony gripped his fists tightly in anger.
‘They said they’d ring later to arrange payment, and if we went ter the police they’d kill Rachel fer sure,’ Joe told him.
‘Did they say what time they’ll ring back?’ Tony asked.
‘No, they rang off before I could say anyfing,’ Joe replied.
Just then Nellie called out and Carrie hastily dabbed at her face. ‘I daren’t tell Mum, it’ll kill ’er,’ she groaned.
As soon as Carrie left the room, Joe turned to Tony. ‘I don’t know much about such fings, but by the way ’e sounded, I reckon ’e’ll carry out ’is threat if we do go ter the police,’ he said quietly. ‘I just feel so ’elpless. What can we do?’
Tony shook his head. ‘I didn’t want ter say anyfing in front o’ Rachel’s mum, but we can’t be sure ’e won’t ’arm ’er, even if the ransom is paid. We’ve got ter find ’er, Joe,’ he said.
Suddenly the phone rang and Joe went quickly to answer it. Tony felt his heart pounding as he watched Joe’s face darken with anger. Then he put the receiver down.
‘ ’E told me jus’ ter listen carefully an’ that if I spoke ’e’d put the phone down right away,’ Joe said, his voice shaking. ‘’E’s askin’ fer two thousand pounds. We’ve got ter ’ave it ready by midday termorrer.’
‘’Ow’s it ter be paid?’ Tony asked.
‘’E said ’e’d give us instructions later. ‘E’s gonna call sometimes termorrer mornin’,’ Joe replied, slumping down in a chair.
When Carrie came down into the room she was whitefaced. ‘What’s ’appened?’ she asked anxiously. ‘I ’eard the phone go but I couldn’t leave Mum. I’m sure she suspects there’s somefing wrong.’
Joe told her the message and she held her hand to her mouth.
‘There’s nuffink we can do till the mornin’, luv. We can only wait,’ Joe said, running a hand over his forehead.
Carrie shook her head. ‘There’s nearly a thousand in the bank, an’ I can raise the rest in the mornin’, but I feel so ’elpless. I wonder where they’ve got ’er, Joe? Will she be all right?’ she asked tearfully.
‘She’s gonna be all right, believe me,’ Joe said, taking her by the shoulders. ‘We’ve jus’ gotta try ter stay calm.’
Carrie shook her head. ‘I can’t sit still. I’ll make us a cuppa. It’s gonna be a long wait.’
Nellie walked slowly into the room with a blanket covering her shoulders. ‘What the bloody ’ell’s goin’ on ’ere?’ she asked.
Gloria Simpson sat arched backward in her chair. The knot pressing against
the back of her neck had tightened when her head slumped earlier and she knew that to relax her back would be fatal. The gag in her mouth was hurting and she realised that she had lost the circulation in both feet. Frank Galloway was a maniac, she thought with hatred in her heart. He had openly admitted to killing Lola and it was quite probable that she would be his next victim now that she knew his dark secret. She must get loose somehow. Her life depended on it.
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